Together
by Ai Tennshi
Summary: A series of one shots following the series. Slices of life in the worlds of Nadja and other characters. Main pairings are Nadja/Keith and Francis/Maryann.
1. Nadja and Oscar

_Author's Note: These are all prequels to Alone, a one-shot you can find in my profile. Previously, I was going to put them all into one series of one-shots, but it felt wrong to do it that way. So you can read these independently—just a series of fluffy little stories following the series, detailing little slices of life until the birth of Nadja and Keith's first children. Enjoy!_

_**Genre**: General_

_**Rating**: K_

**Nadja and Oscar**

"Lady Nadja has arrived, Mistress Colette," the butler said, entering the parlor with a bow. Colette stood at once.

"Oh, good," she said with a smile. She had not known when to expect Nadja, but her daughter's letters had said that they were approaching Vienna, so she had been expecting a visit sometime soon.

The young man beside her—her former nephew—stood as well.

"Mom!" called Nadja enthusiastically, skipping into the room cheerfully with her usual disregard for the common social etiquette of the nobles. She darted over to her mother and threw her arms around her with delight. It was wonderful to come back to find her mother the same as ever. She had not returned to Vienna since she had left the city with Troupe Dandelion months ago, and was slightly (and irrationally) nervous about the sort of welcome she would receive.

But the sight of her newly found mother had thrown all doubts from her mind; this was her mother, after all. She was perfectly comfortable around Colette, as Colette was around Nadja. So it had been since the time when they first met.

Just as she and her mother pulled out of their embrace, she noticed a young man standing near her mother as well. Colette smiled upon noticing her daughter's curiosity.

"Nadja, this is Oscar, your cousin. Herman's former wife Hilda's son."

"Nice to meet you," Nadja instantly said with a smile. She did not wait for her mother to introduce her—she saw no need to. "I'm Nadja."

"So I've heard," Oscar smiled. "…You are very much like Aunt, Nadja."

Nadja's already bright smile brightened even further at those words.

"Thank you! Do you come here often?"

"Occasionally. I have much to do in my own home."

Nadja cocked her head.

"I suppose if Herman and your mother divorced…you're the head of the House of Corlade now?"

"I see Aunt's been speaking about me to you, too?" Oscar chuckled.

"Just a little," Nadja smiled. "She always says how if Grandpa chooses you as his heir, you'd do well."

"You flatter me, Aunt," Oscar laughed, looking to Colette. Colette smiled.

"Just look at how naturally you're taking over the House of Corlade. If only Father weren't so stubborn about blood… Even he himself once said that you would have made an ideal heir for him, if only you had carried his blood."

"Coming from Duke Preminger's mouth, that's more flattering than anything," Oscar smiled. Then he turned back to Nadja. "I hear you're a dancing girl?"

"Oh yes!" Nadja said enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up as she began to tell Oscar all about Troupe Dandelion.

Colette smiled, watching her daughter and nephew develop an instant liking for each other. At the rate at which they were speaking, they would no doubt be as close as brother and sister in no time at all. And she could not have wished for more.


	2. The Clingy Girl

__

**Genre**: Humor

**Rating**: T

**Francis, Nadja, and the Clingy Girl**

"…But then he started rolling back and forth across the stage, throwing and catching his sword at either end, and then after doing that three times he threw it lower so he could catch it at the middle of the stage, and then leapt up with a mid-air summersault before he caught it! It was so amazing that no one ever guessed that he'd never meant to fall flat on his back in the first place!"

Francis laughed heartily as Nadja told him of the latest onstage mess-up that had occurred.

"But, Nadja," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "while you tell me about all these instances when other members of the Troupe cover up their mistakes, I've never heard of any of yours."

Nadja's face was instantly on fire.

"Oh," Nadja gasped before she quickly continued in a frantic-sounding voice, "I don't mean to gossip or anything—really, I don't—it's just that I wanted to tell you all about the things that happened since I last saw you, and, well, I suppose I must have gotten a little too carried away, but I honestly didn't mean anything spiteful, just-"

"It's all right," Francis said soothingly with a smile. "That's not what I meant. I meant that I was interested in hearing about what you do to cover up your mistakes."

Nadja blinked blankly for a moment, and then her expression darkened. Francis was taken aback, and began to think that perhaps that wasn't such a good question to have asked.

"I've only ever made a mistake onstage once," Nadja said. Though her expression had darkened, her voice was strong and firm. "It was right after my brooch was stolen, when I was too busy worrying to focus on the dance properly. I tripped and dropped the umbrella I was dancing with, but was so busy thinking about other things that it took a moment for me to realize what had happened. When I did, I just sat up and stayed there—by the time I realized that I'd messed up, I'd been sitting there staring for much too long to try to cover up."

Francis placed a comforting hand on Nadja's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. Everyone knows how important that brooch is to you, and the way things were at the time…" Francis grimaced. "It's perfectly understandable."

Nadja looked up at him with a smile, and was about to open her mouth to say something, when—

"Oh, sir!"

Nadja and Francis both blinked, not very comprehending, as a girl gave a squeal and threw herself at Francis. They stared at the girl who was now clasping Francis's hand and looking up at him adoringly as though she had never seen anyone more worthy of her admiration.

"Pardon me, madam, but do I know you?" Francis asked politely, and Nadja had to hide a giggle at the way that he seemed to be just barely restraining from snatching his hand from the girl's grasp.

"Oh, sorry—I'm Christina, fifteen-years-old." Even as she spoke, she did not release Francis's hand.

"Can I help you?" Francis asked politely.

"Thank you for asking!" squealed the girl, and she was instantly cuddling Francis's entire left arm as though it were her pillow.

Francis stared at her in alarm for a moment before turning beet red. Nadja, on the other hand, burst out laughing after staring for a moment.

"Kindly release my arm, madam," Francis demanded as politely as he could, attempting to pry the girl away.

"Oh, but you haven't even introduced yourself yet!"

"I believe that no more introduction is needed here."

"Well spoken! Shall I show you to my place?"

Francis's eyes widened to the size of plates. Nadja was clutching her stomach in laughter. People were beginning to crowd around in curiosity.

"No- What- I… Madam!" Francis's face could have been no redder.

"Or would you prefer your place?"

"No place, thank you very much!"

"Oh, but…" The girl turned a little red as she glanced around. "There are so many people here… I really think that my place would be much better, sir."

"No!" Francis was beginning to panic now, but he still could not release his arm from her grip. "No! I have no need of your…your…your services, so you can just…just…"

The girl giggled, and pulled his arm even closer.

"Oh, I'm not offering any 'services'. I just find that I like you, sir."

"That's even worse!"

"Well, I suppose you_ could _pay me, if you really wished to…"

"No! I want nothing to do with you! Release me!"

"But sir…I love you!"

"Love is born of time and acquaintance, and I have been acquainted with you for no more than two minutes!"

"That is more than enough for my heart to beat for only you, night and day," sighed the girl. Nadja could no longer see for the tears that streamed down her face, and she thought she would cough up a lung or two, but she could not stop laughing.

"That is very flattering, but I do not share your sentiments," Francis said with attempted (and failed) calmness.

"I'm sure you will, in time," the girl said, flashing a smile up at him.

"Unhand me!" ordered the increasingly panicking Francis. The surrounding crowd was beginning to chuckle as well.

"But I couldn't! I would rather die than lose you forever!"

"I do not know you!"

"But you're my knight in shining armor!"

"I am not! Unhand me!"

"My hands aren't touching you, sir."

Indeed, she was holding his arm trapped between her arms and chest.

"I do not care, just release me!"

"But…" the girl's eyes began to tear. Then her arms suddenly tightened. "No!!"

"Nadja, save me!" Francis turned to his companion, only to find her in gales of laughter and in no condition to save him. He turned back to the girl, and attempted again to shove her off. "Release me, and never come into my sight again!"

"No!" Her arms tightened even further, and he felt his arm beginning to go numb.

"Just…get…off!" All dignity was out the window as he attempted to shove her away with all his might. However, she had a death grip that simply would not budge.

"Unhand him!" came a strong, firm, no-nonsense voice from the crowd. Looking around, Francis found himself almost weeping in relief at the sight of his childhood friend.

"Maryann!"

"He's mine, madam, and you have no right-"

The girl was cut off when Maryann forcefully snatched Francis's arm from her grip and glared at her with full force.

"He is not yours, nor will he ever be. If you do not leave my sight this instant, I will report you."

It was probably more the glint in Maryann's eyes than her words that sent the girl running away as fast as she could. Maryann sighed and turned to Francis.

"Really, I don't see why you couldn't handle that yourself."

Francis stared at her in disbelief.

"She had me in a death grip!"

But Maryann was beginning to chuckle beside the still-giggling Nadja. Francis sighed and rubbed his temples. At this rate, he would never be hearing the end of this.


	3. Irrational Jealousy

**Genre:** Humor (/Romance?)

**Rating:** K+

**Irrational Jealousy**

"Keith!" Nadja called with delight when she saw the black-clad man waiting some way away from the Troupe's car, apart from the crowd. He raised a hand to her with a grin when he saw that she had seen him.

Nadja ran around the crowd of people and made her way to Keith.

"Bravo, Nadja," he smiled and clapped when she reached him.

"That was just an introductory dance," she shook her head, smiling nonetheless. "My flamenco's always last, since Leader said it's the heart of the show."

"Introductory or not, a good dance is a good dance," Keith smiled. "Shouldn't you be getting changed into your flamenco costume now?"

Nadja hesitated.

"Yes, but…" She sent Keith a worried look.

The vagabond in Keith was still as alive as ever, and he had a tendency to come to see her without warning, only to disappear while she was looking the other way.

Keith knew what Nadja was thinking. He smiled.

"I'm here to talk to you—I'll watch your dance and wait for you here after the show. Don't worry."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Nadja flashed him a brilliant smile, and then turned and returned to the Troupe's car. She changed quickly, and barely managed to get her hair securely pinned up in time.

She scanned the audience for Keith; she found him standing near the back. A young woman, to Nadja's horror, was attempting to talk to him. She quickly attempted to put the sight from her mind and schooled herself not to look back.

She didn't dance as well as usual, and she knew it. She still held a small bit of anxiety that Keith would depart—with the young woman, no less—while she was dancing, and that took the edge off every movement that she made and every step that she tapped.

The moment that the dance was over, and she had bowed and gracefully left the stage, she looked around the car to scan the audience for Keith. It didn't take long to find him, for he was already making his way over to her. Nadja couldn't help it when her face broke into a smile almost of its own accord.

"A walk?" suggested Keith. Nadja grinned and agreed.

"Just let me change." He was still there. He could scarcely know the elation Nadja felt at that single fact. The young lady from earlier scarcely mattered any longer.

So imagine how it felt to have that elation robbed from under her feet when she returned to find Keith speaking with the utmost politeness with a certain young lady—a _different_ one from earlier. He was supposed to be waiting for _her_, Nadja fumed silently.

"Nadja," Keith said, dismissing the other girl like she was nothing. This consoled Nadja a little, though she still frowned.

"Shall we be going then?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the other girl, who was glaring back as if to say, "I saw him first!"

Fortunately for Nadja, Keith had no eyes for the girl and did not even bid her farewell.

They discussed what their lives had been like in the few months since they had last seen one another as they walked down the street, and Nadja almost forgot about the two successive young ladies that had seen fit to "throw themselves" at Keith.

As she did not voice these sentiments, there was no one to remind her that really, neither girl had thrown herself at anybody.

"Would you like to buy some flowers, sir?" asked a flower girl at the side of the street, smiling flirtatiously at Keith (or so Nadja thought, but her judgment had already proved rather faulty).

This was the last string for Nadja, and she finally snapped.

"No he would _not!_" she growled at the girl, and dragged Keith away from the street vendors with their horrible girls throwing Keith looks and smiles from all directions.

"Do you think we ought to move to a more secluded location, Nadja?"

"Yes," Nadja snapped, then felt her face flush as she realized the connotations that their words carried. "Purely to keep you from being distracted by those horrible girls, of course. I just can't stand the way they distract you and you never hear a word I'm saying when they're around."

"Of course," Keith replied simply.

Nadja refused to wonder why he looked so smug.


	4. Nadja Applefield

**Genre**: General (Crack!)

**Rating**: K

**Nadja Applefield**

"Hi, I'm Nadja Applefield!"

It had all started out like a perfectly ordinary introduction. She had met a little boy on the streets who was having trouble balancing five cartons (albeit, five _small_ cartons, but five cartons nonetheless) of apples in his little arms, and shared a few trade secrets about the art of balancing. Naturally, it was only polite that she introduce herself, so she did so.

That was where it all started going downhill.

"What kind of name is _that?_" demanded the boy. Nadja had no answer for him, but that didn't halt her indignation.

"It's _my _name! My parents gave it to me! What's wrong with the name Nadja?"

"What?" The boy looked genuinely surprised. "Oh, I've got nothing against Nadja. I mean, I've never heard it before, but it's a pretty name, it really is."

"Oh," said Nadja, rather touched by the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you." Then the discrepancy began to nag her. "But wait, you just said-"

"Yeah, I meant the name Applefield."

"Well, what's wrong with Applefield?" Nadja was indignant again.

"A lot of things! For one thing, it sounds like two words just stuffed together, and who names their child after an apple field anyway? Did your parents grow apples?"

"No."

"Do _you_ grow apples?"

"No."

"Do you live in a place where people grow apples?"

"No!" Nadja was starting to feel rather stupid.

"Have you ever lived in a place where people grew apples?"

"Of course not."

"Then, see, it makes no sense and is just stupid. It would make sense if _my _name was Eric Applefield, since I was born on an apple field, I live on an apple field, and I work on an apple field. But my name's Eric Steward, and that's just plain moronic."

"My orphanage was called Applefield," Nadja explained lamely.

"So? Did they have an apple field nearby at least?"

"No."

"Then see? It's just as stupid. You've got nothing to do with apple fields, or even just apples or fields, and I have nothing to do with stewards. So why do we have these names? I think we could do just as well without them. Or we could start making them up, and changing them whenever we see fit."

"Um…"

"But I don't understand the system of last names anyway. Seriously, Applefield? Ha! I'd like to hear you introduce yourself as that to someone important. But it's better than a first name, I suppose."

"Eric-"

"Can you imagine introducing yourself like that? 'Hi, I'm Applefield. Applefield Farmer. No, I have nothing to do with apple fields, apples, fields, or farming. I'm a seamstress. Sheesh, that would be so lame."

"I have to be going now…"

"And come _on!_ Someone's got to have thought of this before me! Why do you all just look at me like I'm talking gibberish when I start talking sense?" Nadja took it that it wasn't the first time that Eric was going on a rant like this, in which case talking 'sense' into him was probably out of the question. "Names are important! They create a person's first impression of you. Nadja, for instance, is a wonderful name that way. But Applefield?"

For the first time, Nadja considered introducing herself as Nadja Preminger or Nadja Waltmuller. Or maybe she should visit her mother and find out what her father's last name had been. Or maybe they all meant something in some other language that she didn't know.

Nadja finally just fled the boy, forcing herself not to consider the great many number of problems with names that the boy had just brought to her attention.


	5. Friendship and Obligations

_Author's Note: For my friend Aki, for whom I have made many an attempt to write this pairing. This is the closest (I feel) I've come to succeeding._

**Genre**: Romance/sap

**Rating**: T for sexual situations

**Friendship and Obligations**

It was a strange day for Francis, the day it happened. He'd been sitting at his desk, going about his business as usual, when Maryann had entered the room. Maryann, of course, was his dearest friend and had been for a great many years of their short lives, and therefore was allowed to roam the manor as she pleased. She usually still followed social protocol and knocked before entering a room, but at some point, her entry into Francis's room and study had ceased to be preceded by knocks.

Not that Francis minded, of course. While he generally did prefer his privacy, Maryann was like a sister to him, and therefore those boundaries which he extended to others did not exist for her.

On this particular day—as previously stated—Francis had been at his desk, writing a letter, when Maryann had entered the room. Normally, Francis would notice Maryann's entrance to a room and cease whatever he was doing in favor of greeting her.

This time, he did not notice her entrance, much less her presence in the room.

Maryann found this rather vexing. Not that she required his attention to constantly be on herself, of course. She had given up the idea of having Francis for her own years ago, when she had seen how much more comfortable he was with Nadja than herself. She now watched from the sidelines, urging Francis and Nadja together, but still unable to befriend Nadja due to that small amount of lingering jealousy that festered in the dark corners of her heart.

And now he was writing something that drew his full attention away from her.

For his part, Francis was rather preoccupied with his letter to a certain Lady Marionette, who had extended to him an offer of marriage that he had to refuse with the utmost courtesy. Yet there seemed to be no way to refuse her but to be engaged to be married to another. Unfortunately, Nadja seemed to be rather more inclined towards Keith these days, and even if she were not, Francis could scarcely remember why he had ever wanted to kiss her in the first place. Certainly, she was attractive, and he loved her. But his feelings for her just…

It would have been an understatement to say that he was stressed.

His frustration flew away when familiar hands touched his shoulder, rubbing two, three circles that loosened his muscles before winding around his neck and a chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"You look rather distressed, Francis," Maryann's low, soothing voice said in his ear.

_Not anymore_, he thought as her breath brushed his cheek and the soft, warm skin of her cheek brushed the shell of his ear. Something warm rushed through his chest and spread through him, and he felt the need to communicate how very soothing her presence was—how much of a difference she made simply by being there.

So he turned in his chair, catching Maryann's cheek with his hand, and kissed her.

In that instant, everything flew away. Her lips were soft and warm, and her willingness was intoxicating. He wanted her, _needed_ her, and could not remember why he'd never done this before.

They kissed awhile, until Francis attempted to run a hand down her back and discovered that his hand was sliding _up._ Some small rational part of his brain reasoned that this would give her an aching neck, and it would be rather a good idea to find a position that didn't hurt her muscles.

And that was the reasoning with which Francis broke the kiss, dragged his chair sideways, and pulled Maryann into his lap by the waist, where he began kissing along her cheek.

"You realize who I am, right?" Maryann said breathlessly, and it was the slight note of anguished desperation in her voice that brought Francis back into reality. Then he understood her words, and was struck with the horror at what he had done.

"Maryann! I- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

He stood so suddenly that Maryann was thrown from his lap and came quite close to falling, except that he caught her around the waist, which turned out not to be the best thing in the world because his mind was pointing out rather helpfully that this would be a very convenient position from which to pin her against the desk.

He was weak, Francis noted, because he had followed through with that suggestion of his mind without hesitation, and this time was proceeding to kiss Maryann's _neck_. It didn't help his self-control at all that she had a hand at the back of his head, urging him on.

It was with great effort that Francis defied all his basic instincts and pulled away from Maryann. He looked at her, and saw her lips, slightly parted, so warm and soft and wet-

And sent the chair flying as he stumbled backwards in an attempt to escape the lure of Maryann's body. He tripped and fell unceremoniously on his behind.

"Francis?" asked Maryann, concerned. "Are you alright?"

_No, I'm not!_ He wanted to shout at her not to come closer, but she was already approaching, and he was afraid of what would come out if he opened his mouth, because suddenly, Maryann was the epitome of womanhood, and oh, how he wanted her!

"Maryann," he croaked out in protest as she knelt by his side, "Don't-"

"Do I disgust you so much?"

Francis froze. "_No._ I'm struggling to keep my hands _off_ of you, what would give you the idea that-"

"Because you're trying so _hard!_" cried Maryann in despair. "You're doing it for Nadja, aren't you? What does she have that I don't? Why can't it be _me_?"

It was official. Francis was lost. This time, it was against a wall that he pinned her. He was careful not to _assault _her mouth this time—he dropped a light kiss upon her lips, and when she melted to it, he dropped another, and then another, until they all ran together and he deepened it.

"It is you," he whispered when he pulled away briefly to murmur just that before resuming his attentions to her mouth. "It's always been you. You were always there, though, which was why I never really…"

At that point speaking became distinctly difficult, because once Maryann had begun responding without restraint, she proved to be quite able with her tongue.

"Then you'll marry me?" she breathed when they pulled away for breath.

"_Will _I?" grinned Francis, raising his hands back to the safer territory of her back to pull her body closer to his own. "I couldn't dream of anything in the world that could make me happier."

When Maryann threw herself at Francis, her forthcomingness only made him want her more. He tried to pull away, knowing that his self-restraint was reaching the end of its rope, but it was Maryann who smiled and led him through the door that connected his study and bedchambers, and pushed him down onto the bed.

At which point he decided that all that rubbish about chastity before marriage didn't mean a _thing_, and he flipped Maryann over—her lips parted to form a gasp of delight that was so beautiful and enchanting that he had to taste those lips again—to show her that he was really not going to stop anymore.

Maryann didn't mind it in the least.


	6. Sibling Rivalry

**Genre**: Romance/Friendship

**Rating**: K+

**Sibling Rivalry**

Francis fidgeted nervously behind the Troupe's car as he waited for the show to end. Had he had less self-control, he would have been pacing. That, however, would hardly be dignified when he had come to break news to Nadja that could possibly prove hurtful.

Of course, he knew that her inclination was towards Keith. He himself had hardly had any romantic interaction with the girl since...well, since some point far enough in his past that he couldn't remember it, apparently. But it was one thing to court a girl for two years and then suddenly withdraw your courtship—that was bad enough. Except now he was withdrawing his courtship not only because he did not love her the way he had claimed to, but because he loved another. Whom he had promptly made unfit to wed any other man, Francis' brain supplied helpfully, dredging up details of the previous night that made Francis' face go red.

"Francis?" said Nadja's voice, and Francis jumped. "Are you alright? You're so red...and jumpy," Nadja observed, puzzled when he jerked away from her hand as she reached out to touch his arm.

"Er...Nadja...I find that I have something of the most...urgent...importance, which I must...share- or, impart to you."

Nadja blinked. "Are you nervous, Francis?"

"Er...yes, I suppose I am. You see, I-"

"Oh, did you see the show today? I think I absolutely _nailed_ that spin this time, it's all thanks to Keith! Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you? It seems like ages since I last saw him..."

That phrase in itself was like a load off of Francis' shoulders. Her preoccupation with Keith was definitely not Francis' imagination...which made it a lot easier to break it to her that he was engaged.

"I'm engaged," he said bluntly, and then cringed internally, wondering if that was too blunt.

Nadja calmed down, and blinked at him. Then a huge grin spread across her face. "That's wonderful, Francis! To Maryann? Keith was right, he said you'd pick her! Congratulations!"

"Are you..."

"Okay with it? Of course I am!" Then Nadja cocked her head to the side and looked at him. "I suppose I'm a little bit sad...but more because I know I won't be spending very much time with you. Maryann doesn't like me very much, after all. I mean, it's not like I'm jealous of her or anything—I swear, it's not—it's just...kind of like how I felt when someone at Applefield would leave to go and get a job."

"So...like a brother?" Francis asked, hope rising inside of him.

Nadja thought about this for a moment, then a wide smile spread across her face. "Yes, kind of. Isn't that interesting?"

Francis smiled at her in reply, relief filling him. "So we're still friends?"

"Until Maryann decides she wants us on separate sides of Europe, yes," grinned Nadja, and Francis pulled her into an embrace.

"Thank you so much, Nadja! Now...I would stay and talk, but I..."

"Eager to get back to the love of your life?" laughed Nadja. "Of course, go ahead!"

Francis left with a wave, then, with a small part of him nagging that he probably should have stayed and talked to her for longer than that. Yet the thought of Maryann set his heart pounding and his head spinning—and he couldn't even describe how much he just wanted to be at her side just then.

* * *

"Nadja!"

The fifteen-year-old turned in surprise upon hearing the familiar voice.

"Keith? What are you doing here? Francis left over an hour ago, if you're looking for him."

The look on Keith's face was unreadable as he looked down at the beautiful young woman standing before him.

"Francis is engaged. To Maryann." Nadja smiled and almost laughed.

"I know, he just told me. Isn't it wonderful? Maryann's loved him for so long!" Keith appeared to be at a loss for words.

"But Nadja…Nadja, what about you? I thought you loved him!" Nadja's smile widened at that.

"Francis and I realized something, Keith—we love each other, but like a sister and brother. I'm happy with the way things turned out."

For a moment, Keith just stared at Nadja, his expression once again closed and unreadable.

"But there is someone who you're in love with. As a lover." It was a statement, not a question, but Nadja answered anyway, after only a moment of hesitation.

"Yes, there is. Standing right in front of me."

There was then a long pause as she looked at Keith apprehensively and Keith stared back.

And then, suddenly, she was in his arms, his face buried in her hair.

"I love you too." The words were whispered, but she heard them.


	7. Second Impressions

**Genre**: Friendship

**Rating**: K

**Second Impressions  
**

Nadja and Maryann sat awkwardly on opposite sides of the room. The situation probably would have been less awkward if either of the twins had been there, but as the situation stood, they were not. So they sat and fidgeted, and each hoped that the other would talk first, for neither knew quite how to begin what would have to be a conclusion to their long-standing rivalry. (And here Nadja found herself tensing, for she rather felt like the rivalry had entirely been crated by Maryann to begin with anyway).

"It is a beautiful day," said Maryann, always the more proper one.

Nadja flushed a little. "That it is."

A silence.

"I'm still not giving you Francis."

Nadja wondered when she had fallen back into the land of childhood squabbles over little objects that seemed so very important. Not that Francis was a small, unimportant object. But did it not amount to the same thing? She knew, and Maryann knew, that Nadja would never _have _Francis. Nadja wondered if Maryann was merely attempting to assert superiority over her engagement.

So Nadja smiled.

"That was never up to us to decide—it was Francis' decision."

Maryann stared at Nadja for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so calm?"

Despite everything, Nadja thought about the night of the ball when she had met Francis. She thought of the beautiful conversations they had had, the sweet kiss they had shared. She thought of living the rest of her life as Duchess Francis Harcourt, beloved wife of Duke Francis Harcourt.

Once and for all, she knew that she would never regret the way things had turned out.

Thus it was that Nadja could fix Maryann with a steady eye and say, "I'm certain that I never truly wished him to pick me."

Maryann looked surprised, then her lips thinned. "If he did choose you, you would have broken his heart."

"But he did not."

Maryann stood, slamming a palm down on the surface of the table. "All's well that ends well, is that it? If he'd chosen you, it would have been because he loved you—because he believed you loved him! How _dare_ you lead him on that way only to decide you don't want him after all! And if you pick _Keith_ after this—well, then you may as well rip out Francis' heart, throw it into the snow and stomp it to pieces!"

Nadja averted her eyes, and after a moment of silence, Maryann sat back down. Maryann wondered if she should have just stayed home after all. Nadja wondered why Maryann was so fixed on this hypothetical situation.

"What do you wish of me?" asked Nadja. "When I wanted to be with Francis, you wanted me to back off. Now that he chose you, you tell me to love him. What do you want me to do?"

Nadja regretted her words at once. She knew what Maryann wanted: that she could go back in time and eliminate Nadja from Francis' life altogether. But, of course, the well-bred lady would not say that.

"I want you to make up your mind," said Maryann. Her voice was calm, but her eyes bored into Nadja with a fierce will. "I have told you that I've loved Francis since childhood. In all these years, not once has my heart wavered. I want you to make up your mind once and for all, and stick with it. If you truly loved Francis, then continue to love him, rather than pulling this whole "I'm happy for you" charade. If you do not love him, then leave his life and never return."

Nadja looked at her knees. "What if I can do neither?" She went on quickly before Maryann could start smoking at the ears in her obvious rage. "I never lied about loving Francis. It only...it seems that I was mistaken in the..._intensity_, or something... I love Francis. I really do. But—I don't think that I could be happy spending the rest of my life him. We share ideals, and are very much alike, but—no, perhaps that is the problem. Perhaps I want someone to compliment my views, not share them, and-"

"You need not say anymore," said Maryann cooly. Nadja cringed. A silence followed. Nadja snuck a look at the woman sitting across from her—and to Nadja's surprise, Maryann seemed to be on the verge of a smile. "I understand. You need say no more."

Nadja met the woman's eyes. After a moment of hesitation, the two women smiled at one another for the first time.

By the time that the Harcourt twins returned to escort the women to the fair, the pair was engaged in a lively conversation about tree climbing (which, Nadja had been surprised to learn, Maryann had done her fair share of as a child). Francis merely cocked his head and smiled, wondering at the different atmosphere. Keith immediately noted the lack of malice in the air, and chuckled aloud. Then the moment passed, and each man walked up to his lady loved and offered her his arm.


End file.
